


pump mud through my veins

by PrinceDarcy



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Will, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dark Will, Episode: s02e10 Naka-Choko, Missing Scene, Murder, Violence, and by dark I mean canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDarcy/pseuds/PrinceDarcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The murder of Randall Tier. Novelization/missing scene. Self-defense only goes so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pump mud through my veins

Will didn't even hear the shatter of glass as the dark shape of Randall Tier barreled through his window, heard nothing in his ears but the steady drum of his own heart. Time slowed to a crawl when he hit the ground, rolled onto his side with his gun pointed at the space occupied by Death incarnate. He did not put his finger on the trigger. Randall was still, crouched back on his haunches like the animal he was trying to make himself.

Will moved back, stood, observed. Randall was observing him observing, or at least his head was turned in that direction—the cave bear's skull with its hydraulic augmentations was obscuring a clear view of where his eyes were pointing. Bone and leather and plastic masking a human shape, creating the illusion of a strange almost-man-beast sitting in his living room. Still. He ceded to the greater authority of the shotgun and seemed to have no intention of attacking.

Randall did not know he was not the only beast in the room.

Two things happened precisely at once: the shotgun hit the ground with a heavy thump as Will moved to lunge at Randall, and Randall countered that movement quick enough that Will found himself crashing back into the wall with varnished bone and razor teeth in his face. Jaws gnashed too unnaturally with the guidance of the hydraulics, giving him his first clear look of the face behind them since he'd seen it as the face of an eccentric museum worker, of Hannibal Lecter's former patient. He could hear Randall growl behind the leather over his mouth as the jaws snapped shut again, and an unfortunate disadvantage sprung into Will's mind as if it was written in neon.

Randall couldn't properly pin him while he was using one hand to operate his jaws. Will drew in a breath, palm and sole collided with smooth bone, and the weight of the skull threw off the man-beast's center of gravity in a way neither natural selection nor intelligent design would allow. He heard a groan, so human a sound, as Randall hit the floor, felt the resonance of pain in his ears as he straddled him with knees tight around the ribs of the suit. His fist hit skin in the gap between the lower jaw of the skull and Randall's leather mask, again and again until knuckles hit bone too hard and pain shot through his hand. His own blood joined that of Randall's victims on the surface of the skull, and he realized then that he couldn't have something like that getting in his way.

But Randall was not a complicit victim, and with another groan-growl he tried to claw at Will's face. He swung his head to the side just in time to dodge, getting a tight hold on Randall's arm and forcing him back down to the floor with a knee to the groin. The armor of bone there did more harm than good, the pain Will felt as his knee collided with it undoubtedly nothing compared to what was being felt on the receiving end. Randall was still writhing as he grabbed hold of the skull, tugging tubes free and trying to get the damned armor-hard obstruction out of the way. The leather of the straps didn't resist as much as he thought it would and tore in his hands, leaving the skull unattached and Randall's fang free mouth uncovered. All it took was a firm shove to push away the skull then, but the realization that one of his main weapons was lost to him seemed to give the man-beast a fresh burst of adrenaline.

This time when Randall swung at Will he pulled him forward instead of pushing him down, elbowing him hard in the face before locking the offending arm, striking his elbow and hearing the sick snap of the breaking joint. The claws tore free easier than the skull, the whole suit seeming to be worse for the loss of the _piece de la resistance_. Randall was no animal anymore now that fear had touched him, now that he was unarmed and grasping with his left hand at his right elbow to try and ease the pain—he was no longer a threat but Will was not about to leave a job unfinished.

He took a rough hold of the bone shoulder where it was separating from the sleeve, holding Randall up by that as he hit him again and again, letting him fall back when blood was spraying from his nose and mouth with every desperate exhale. The ribcage of his suit now served as minimal shielding around his head but it was nowhere near as obtrusive as the skull that lie useless so near them. Nose and jaw cracked under blow after blow, dark bruises forming around bloody breaks in skin.

A gurgling cough sprayed Will with more blood than he'd already gotten himself covered with, and he bit his lip when he cupped the sides of Randall's head almost tenderly to put him out of his misery. A single twist was all it took to end it, one last ugly crack as the man-beast's neck broke. Will drew back, watched him as if he thought there was a chance he might stir again, make another swing at him and fight back. The corpse remained still, as corpses tended to do, eyes blank and unseeing from the bone coffin of the suit's ribs.

Relief and pride and euphoria all flooded over Will at once as if he'd waded out into a cool ocean, things as negative as shame or disgust nothing but tiny boats in the raging tide. They were quickly swallowed under the waves and all he could find it in him to feel as he looked down at his work was good. Like he'd finally managed to scratch some itch that had been there all his life.

Extracting dead weight from the bone suit was far easier a task than trying to pry if off someone struggling, luckily—keeping it on him would make transport far more difficult. He cleaned his hands off as best he could after that, knowing he couldn't have too much of Randall's blood leaving the house with him. Only that that was on the corpse; he wasn't going to clean it up. Not for what he was going to do with it. The body had to be seen in exactly the state he'd put it in first. What he did to it after didn't matter, though plans were already forming in his mind, murky images of a true man-beast carved from flesh and bone. They were nothing but ghosts in the shadows yet, a design he'd bring to fruition when he had his materials in front of him and more time to spare. There was one last purpose Randall had to serve before that could come to pass, one more judge to stand before as his pitiable life was weighed.

Will smiled into his hands as he washed his face over the kitchen sink, those shadowy pictures bringing the sort of pleasure that danced down his spine and made even him slightly giddy. _Giddy_ —that feeling was new, not pride nor power. But Randall Tier had not been like Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Not in life nor in death.

He still had a lot of work to do.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might do a follow-up with him making Randall-tooth. Or not. That might be too disgusting even for me.


End file.
